


Shelter

by MerKat



Series: MerKat RPs [29]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - World War II, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom John, First Kiss, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Johnlock Roulette, Kissing, M/M, Public Sex, Top Sherlock, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 03:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2798273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerKat/pseuds/MerKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The air raid alarms force two men into a shelter, and each other's arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter

It was a relief to be free of the camps. Finally. The excitement of code breaking had lost its appeal as soon as he'd broken it. It had taken longer than he'd wanted it to, but at last he'd gotten Mycroft to let him come back home. Legally anyway. It'd hadn't been pretty the last time he'd snuck out. Rather, he would be home, if only there wasn't a bomb threat and the train was delayed. And the platform was packed with all those trying to get back to London with him. It was hateful.

John leaned on his cane as he waited for the train. It felt almost strange to be out of uniform and the heat, but here he was, waiting to go back to London and God knew what else. There were still bombings, almost every night. Only now he’d be facing the war as a civilian instead of a soldier. There was the sound of a plane flying low overhead and nearly everyone on the platform looked up nervously, save himself and another man. Curious, John limped over towards him. "Evening."

Sherlock looked up at the voice, a bit surprised to find someone speaking to him. People, for the most part, tended to pass him by. Stare, oh yes, quite a bit. His features were arresting and his gaze intense. But stop and speak to him? More than that, approach him? Unheard of.

"Evening," he replied, taking in all the details of the man in a blink. "Egypt or Libya?"

John raised an eyebrow. "Egypt… How did you know?"

Sherlock told him. It was all really quite obvious and it almost hurt that humanity went through life so blind. But as he spoke, bright blue eyes widened with an amazed kind of wonder that he'd also never seen as a reaction to his deductions before. For the first time in ages, he completed his observations without being hit, and the unusual reaction left him floundering.

"You're brilliant," said John. "That...that is quite brilliant." He was captivated by the pale eyes staring down at him. He couldn't help but stare right back, as if they were the only two on the platform. 

That was… new. Sherlock shifted in place, unsure what to do with the awful gaze. Many, if not all, of the surrounding travellers were too busy glancing fearfully at the ceiling to pay attention to the tells of two strangers and their perverse, obviously shared, proclivities. He glanced around, eyes settling upon a small, empty cafe set off to the side with several small, unoccupied tables and chairs.

"Coffee?" he offered.

“Love to.” John limped his way over. He prayed he was reading this man’s signals correctly. “John Watson,” he offered as he pulled out a chair for the stranger. After all, things that were turned a blind eye to in foreign lands could get one hung or worse back home.

"Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock replied, taking his seat and waving over the man at the counter. "Consulting detective and code breaker. I resided in London until I was forced to the camps when they realised what I could do. My brother's fault. The only thing he's done in recent years was get me back out. It was all too boring. My mind was stagnating."

John chuckled softly. “Could try North Africa for a bit of excitement. Or France. Though I hear London is getting it these days.” The smile died on his lips and he shifted, worrying the comment had been rather not good. "Didn’t have anywhere else to go myself, so I figured back to London.”

"I am not looking for physical excitement," Sherlock corrected before putting in his order with the harried-looking shop worker. After John had given his as well and the other man had walked back behind the counter, Sherlock continued. "My mind requires puzzles to solve, and often those are accompanied by physical excitement, especially when it comes to solving crimes Scotland Yard is unable to, but exercise for my mind comes first and foremost."

"Ah well, I doubt I'd be able to keep up with a physical chase anyway." He adjusted the cane. "Still, sounds fascinating."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Sherlock scoffed. "You've seen plenty of danger, injury, death?"

"Quite so. Used to be a doctor."

"Good. Then you'll do quite well as my assistant," the consulting detective said, leaning back and taking his coffee from the shopkeep. "I will also let you know that I don't speak at times for days on end and I do play the violin. Flatmates should know the worst about one another."

John grinned. "Just like that? How did you know I needed a flatmate?"

"You've clearly been invalided from the army, and yet, there is no one here to retrieve you. Either there is no one to give you help or there is no one you wish to receive it from. You'll be needing a place to stay and as you've no job yet, someone to help minimize the cost of rent. Obvious."

"Obvious," echoed John with a smile. He sipped his coffee and studied the pale eyes. 

Suddenly the air raid siren went off. People quickly scattered for the shelters. John sighed and reached for his cane. 

"Ugh," was all Sherlock said for a moment, only moving to drink his coffee. John stared down at him with a raised eyebrow until he relented, standing with a flourish of his long coat. He hated the raids. Disruptive at best, destructive at worst. It made the more delicate experiments impossible. He followed the rest of the panicking masses and one _not_ -panicking ex-soldier to the over-crowded shelter.

It was packed and uncomfortable inside, though it forced him into direct, close contact with his companion's back. Perhaps there was some benefit after all.

John rolled his hips against the taller man under pretense of avoiding a child. He hoped he wasn't wrong, but given what was pressed against him, he didn't think he was. 

_Oh._ Yes. Well. That was rather lovely. Quickly, Sherlock shepherded the shorter man towards a wall, into a little corner created by a support post. He placed his own back into the corner and kept John's arse against the swell of his cock, slipping his hands into the other man's pockets and pulling him into his erection. For once in his life, he'd come across something he wanted that wanted him back out of sheer luck, and he wanted to hold onto it as long as he could. And he thought he'd like to keep hold of this one in more ways than one.

John bit his lip and rolled against him again. One of the hands in his pockets touched his cock and he bit back a moan. The frisson of danger only made it better as he continued to move slowly against him, the rest of the crowd too preoccupied to notice. 

The presence of so many other people around them only made Sherlock's heart pound a familiar beat of _danger_. Still, he couldn't bring himself to stop. With every easy forward rock of his hips, he pushed the other man gently backwards with a firm stroke to his clothed cock. It wasn't difficult to set up an easy rhythm, and it wasn't long before his erection was threatening to erupt in his pants like a secondary schooler.

John wondered on what level of hell coming in your pants with a stranger in an air raid would land him in. Suddenly, the all clear sounded and people started to move towards the exit. "What do you say we forget the train and get a room?" John asked, nearly panting. 

"I say I am quite amenable to that," Sherlock replied, delighting in the shiver that went down the ex-soldier's spine when he spoke directly into the man's ear. He didn't relent from his position pressed flushed against the shorter man's back until they'd spilled out onto the street. John began to look around for the hotel, but already familiar with the small town's layout, Sherlock quickly dragged him in the direction of the building. The actual appearance of dragging helped stay the longer looks they would have garnered from his reluctance to release the hand of another man.

John giggled as they went through the doors. He tried to school his features as Sherlock went to the desk. This was ridiculous. And he couldn't care less.

"My cousin and I require a room," Sherlock declared, startling the bored-looking attendant. The man looked between the two of them, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

" _One_ room?" the young man asked. Sherlock sighed.

"Yes, _one_ room. My cousin and I have shared beds and rooms since we are children. And considering the onslaught of customers you are surely about to receive due to the raids and the delayed train, would you rather not group as many in one room as you are able?"

The man looked at them, but turned the register for Sherlock to sign as a crowd of people came in the door. John followed after him as he headed down the hall. Of course he's given them one on the ground floor and near the front. John made sure the curtains were tightly closed and licked his lips as Sherlock ensured the door was locked. 

Sherlock was upon the other man as soon as he turned around, devouring a mouth that tasted like tea like he was a starving man. John was far from a passive participant, hands tugging relentlessly at the consulting detective's clothes. Grinning into the shorter man's mouth, Sherlock eagerly returned the motions. Coats dropped to the floor, followed shortly by shirts, and then they hit a bit of a snag with their trouser buttons and shoes, tripping one another up and landing on the closest bed with uncontrollable giggles.

John crawled over the detective, rolling his hips as he swallowed the other man's laughter. He ran a hand through unruly curls. God but he was gorgeous. 

They rolled over one another for a moment, only stopping when Sherlock was on top and they were about to roll off the bed. Their playfulness had done nothing to remove their clothes, though they were both a great deal more disheveled than they had been. John's golden hair was ruffled from Sherlock's fingers, looking like they'd already gone a round in the sheets. Feeling smugly triumphant about ending on top, the taller man sat back on his haunches and ground their erections together as his eyes hands took in the sight and feel of the half-naked man below him.

John laughed, more relaxed then he'd been in a long time. "Were you wanting something?" he asked, rocking himself up against him. The man seemed to slot against him perfectly. 

"I am wanting my cock up your arse, but as we were already heading there, it did not seem pertinent to mention it," Sherlock snarked, bending down to suck a nipple into his mouth. John made a sound like he'd bitten off a groan as he arched up into Sherlock's mouth and the detective occupied his hands with finally getting off John's trousers and pants before working on his own. He managed to shuck his garments without needing to remove his teeth and lips and tongue from the sensitive bud, but he was forced to let it go when he yanked off the other man's trousers and pants. Before John could so much as complain, Sherlock made a strategic attack on the other nipple.

John tried to keep his sound down. With a shove he rolled them over again, sucking on his fingers a moment before pressing them into his own arse with a hiss and pinning the taller man's wrists with the other hand. He rolled his hips, rubbing them together. 

"Mmm, John," Sherlock hummed, thrusting upwards into the hard cock aligned with his. John was moaning as he writhed in the detective's lap, and Sherlock hardened at the thought of soon being inside that tight heat. Before long, wet fingers were pulled from the smaller man's arse and braced on the bed to the side of Sherlock's hip, and then he was being engulfed by a burning silk sheath.

Throwing his head back, John tried to bite back a groan. Sherlock filled him perfectly, even as his arse burned. But it was so worth it. John was used to taking what he could when he could, never quite knowing when it would be snatched away. This felt different. He dropped his head again, shifting to stroke himself.

Sherlock wrapped both hands around his partner's bare hips and pulled down as he thrust up. John let out a choked-off sound, his hips shifting as he began to ride the detective's cock, all the while never letting go of his own. It was fantastic.

So many things could go awful for them if they were caught. John pushed those thoughts aside. They were here, together and this amazing man had him as his focus. He ground down against him, watching his eyes blow dark. 

John's movements above him began to grow more and more frantic as the hand on his cock increased in speed. It was clear the other man's orgasm was close, and Sherlock hurriedly fucked up into the tight heat, biting his lip against the pleasure flooding through him. Suddenly, the ex-soldier bit into the flesh of his forearm and his eyes squeezed shut as he convulsed around Sherlock, semen spurting from the tight grasp of his fist. The sensation was the last thing the detective needed, and he was spilling deep within the other man.

John couldn't help the giggle that flowed from his lips. He gingerly pulled himself off and curled up against Sherlock's chest, more than sated. This was ridiculous. This was perfect.

The body against him was warm and made him feel drowsy as it relaxed into him. It had been a long time since he'd felt so relaxed and he said as much. A smiling kiss was pressed into his chest and he hummed, rolling them over and straddling the man's waist. "About that flatshare," he said with a grin.

"I do believe it would be hard to get rid of me now, Mister Holmes."

"I was originally planning on installing you in my second bedroom," Sherlock admitted, "but now I think I'd like to install you in mine instead."

"Fine by me," John replied, sleepily stroking Sherlock's thighs.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let us know what you thought, good or bad, in the Comments, and if bad, please be constructive so that we may better our writing! Also, if you liked the story enough to want to promote/rec it on tumblr, instead of creating a new post, please reblog [our original post](http://merkatrps.tumblr.com/post/105571318278/shelter)! Thank you so much! You are, of course, also more than welcome to follow us on tumblr as well!


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